"Why" Questions, With No Answers

I read somewhere that a mother of a five or six year old child answers around 300 questions a day. Multiply that by the number of days in a year and the number of children around. Sometimes moms get tired of answering questions. Sometimes a mom might even tune some of those little voices right out and stop answering some of those questions. I’ve done it.

The where, how, what, and particularly the why questions can get tiring. And it is especially trying for a mom when a child questions her instructions with “why.” I have been known on occasion to use the old “Because I said so” standby that my own mother sometimes used.

My youngest two are eleven and thirteen so I should be done with the constant questions, but I am not. Because of Sydney’s developmental delay it seems we are stuck there, never able to move on to the next stage. I’m almost certain Sydney is still asking me 300 questions a day, much as a five or six year old would. Sometimes I feel like I am living a life like Bill Murray lived in the movie Groundhog Day. It gets so repetitive. Sometimes, I find myself tuning her out and even asking her to stop asking questions for a few minutes so I can concentrate on the task at hand.

Although Tate also has a developmental delay, his is a different story. Due to autism Tate rarely asked me the why or how questions, or much of anything else when he was younger. And when he did, it was something I celebrated by letting everyone close to us know that it had happened. But lately, Tate has surprised me several times, almost grilling me, about a subject. His why questions are coming more often but they are not usually the typical why questions a younger typically developing child would ask. Tate often wants to know the answers to questions that many of us would not ask.

Yesterday Tate asked me where his older sister was. I explained she was on a road trip, travelling to visit friends. So he pressed me for details, wondering exactly where she was. I was taken aback just a little but was happy to answer. I told Tate what state his sister is in right now. He then said, “How come she wanted to visit friends?” and after that one, “When will she be home?” Because Tate very seldom is interested enough to ask questions about these kinds of things, it was surprising to me. And as often happens, when Tate does something he did not do “on time” it is a giant reminder to me of all the things he SHOULD have done. And it reminds me just how far behind he really is, on more than one level. He truly did not understand why his sister would drive hours to see friends. He would not inconvenience himself like that to see someone. Knowing he could not comprehend the WHY behind my daughter’s trip made me sad. But I still celebrated his interest and the fact that he had asked.

Because of Tate’s lack of social skills, sometimes he loudly questions things the rest of us would not because it would be considered rude. For example, when we have visitors in Bible class (Sunday school), he demands to know WHY they have come. No matter how many times I remind him we want visitors to feel welcome and invite them back, he treats them as if they are intruders who need interrogating. I know his questions have a lot to do with the change in his routine. A visitor causes him a little unease. But, I have found myself wanting to ask Tate, “Seriously? Now? Now is the time you decide to ask questions? You did not ask them at all the appropriate times, but you can come up with this many questions when the time is not right?”

Alas, it would do no good to ask him because Tate answers questions with less reliability than he asks them. His receptive language is so much better than his expressive language so he cannot explain the motives he has behind much of anything. He cannot usually tell me why he does anything he does, nor can he put into words how he feels about things. When Tate uses the word “because” in a sentence it seldom really fits. He might explain to me why he paces when he is anxious by telling me, “Because that is what teenaged boys do.” If I ask him why he does not like the braces on his teeth he will tell me something like, “It is illegal to put braces on thirteen year old boys.” I think I know the answers to those questions and I suspect he also knows the answers to those questions but he cannot communicate those things to me with words.  

And just as I was typing up the end of my thoughts on this subject, my husband came from Tate’s room chuckling. He had just asked Tate to speak to his grandparents on the phone. Tate, totally baffled as to the reason his dad was interrupting his movie viewing to speak on the phone, asked, “Why?” Reasons like, “Because they’d like to hear from you.” or  “Because they love you.” do not really solve the mystery for Tate. So the first thing Tate said in the short phone conversation he had with his grandparents was of course, “Why’d you call here?”

You might also enjoy this post: Lost in the Translation or this one: Speaking Tate's Language

Sydney's lopsided conversations

I tried to document a lot of Sydney’s morning before school today. I haven’t done it in a while and it is always interesting. This was mostly before the medications would have begun to help her slow down and focus. I couldn’t get it all because she talks way faster than I type, but I tried to jot down the highlights. You’ll notice that I do not always respond. I would if she would pause long enough but she does not usually even wait for an answer to a question. She just jumps right to another topic.

In between a lot of these lopsided conversations she was running in circles, opening doors, counting by fives, clapping rhythms with her hands, turning on noisy toys, running in and out of her room, looking in the refrigerator, knocking on the window at the dogs, eating her breakfast, and pestering Tate.

Sydney, first thing this morning: “Mom, Does your jaw hurt?” Me: “Umm, no.” (I have not had any jaw problems…) Sydney: “Well, my shoulder hurts. Do you know why it hurts?” Me: “No.” Sydney: “I know why it hurts. Do you want to know why it hurts? It hurts with a throb.” Me: “Did you sleep on it wrong?” Sydney: “No. I think it is the bone inside of it or the stuff around it.”

Sydney: “Did you take a shower?” Me: “Yes.” Sydney: “I believe you.” My thought bubble: Oh, I’m so glad you think I am credible. Sydney: “I hollered for you and then I hollered, ‘Dad? Dad?’ and all I heard was Levi. Did Levi go to work with Dad?” Me: “Yes.”

Steve and Sydney

Sydney: “I’m so HUNGRY! Can you cut me up an apple and put peanut butter on it? CRUNCHY peanut butter.” Me: “Sure.” Sydney: “Can I feed the dogs?” Me: “Levi already did.” Sydney: “I need to see Steve.” Me: “After breakfast.” Sydney: “I’m not hungry.” Me, handing her the plate with her apple on it: “EAT THIS!” Sydney (like I’m ridiculous and she is patronizing me): “Okay. Okay.”

Sydney: “Did you want me to get up this morning or lay in my bed? ‘Cause I was awake. I checked and Dad’s clock said 7:51 [7:15 actually] but that was running too fast for me.”

Sydney (following me into the laundry room): “Can I push start on the dryer?” Me (throwing clothes into the dryer): “In a minute.” Sydney: “It sounded like there was something clinky in there. Like a penny or something.” Me: “I didn’t hear it.” Sydney: “Maybe I made it up.”

Sydney: “Why did you get me a drink of water with my pills? Now I need to potty!” Sydney from the bathroom: “Mooooooo Moooooooo Mooooooo” Me: “Sydney, please stop mooing from the bathroom.”  Sydney: “Okay Mom! I’m hurrying!” Me: “Take your time. Just stop mooing!” Sydney: “Okay!” There was silence for one minute. Then….. Sydney: “Mooooooo. Moooooo” Moooooooooooo!” My thought bubble: Why couldn’t she have liked turtles best? They are so quiet.

Sydney: “Do you know how humming birds peck at windows? Well I dreamed about humming birds and there was this woodpecker who came to my window and woke me up. I let him in and you got mad at me. You said, ‘I don’t think that is a woodpecker. It is a blah blah blah bird.’ I said, ‘it is a friendly woodpecker’ and you said, ‘it is just an ordinary woodpecker.’” My thought bubble: Even in her dreams I suck all the fun right out of everything. But I’m so confused. Was this story about a humming bird, a woodpecker, or a blah blah blah bird?

Sydney settled on black and white and it turned out great. 

Sydney (picking up a wooden cow): “I really need to paint this cow. He looks naked. I’ll paint him today after math camp. Do you know why I hate going to math camp? It is because of going to my group. ____ is in my group. He looks at me like he is mad at me.” My thought bubble: I cannot imagine why. Sydney: “Should I paint this cow brown like a Brown Swiss or should it maybe be a Holstein?”  Me: “Whatever color you want.” Sydney: “Can I use your paints or my paint?” Me: “You can’t use watercolors. You’ll have to use my paint.” Sydney: “What colors do you have?” Me: “Too many to remember.” Sydney: “I want to make it really colorful. But…. What color is an udder?”

Sydney has had swimmers ear so we’ve got drops from the doctor. I told her we needed to get the drops in her ear before school and she said: “How long do I leave my ear drops in?” Me: “Five or ten minutes.” Sydney: “So, until Nine O Ten?” Me: “No.” Sydney: “Then how long?” Me: “Five or ten minutes.” Sydney: “So when it is Nine O Ten can I get up?” Me: “There is no such thing as Nine O Ten.” Sydney: “What time is it?” Me: “Sydney I don’t know what time it is right now but ten minutes after nine is called Nine Ten, not Nine O Ten.” Sydney: “So how long do I leave the ear drops in?”  Me: “Five or ten minutes.” Sydney: “So until Nine O Ten!” My thought bubble: Where are those eardrops? I think the directions said something about leaving them in ‘til Nine O Ten. Wait….

Sydney: “When you are gone to camp I will miss you.” Me: “I will miss you too. Regan and Dad will take good care of you.” Sydney: “Why does Regan have a headache today? What is a mind-grain anyway? I have too many mosquito bites. Oh Mom! There is a wasp nest out in the chicken house. I forgot to tell you yesterday. I don’t know if it is a wasp nest or a mud dauber’s nest. Dad needs to bring that spray out there. What color are wasp nests and mud dauber nests?” Me: “I’ll show you a picture later.” Sydney: “How about now?..... Hey! What are you typing? Is that about me?” Me: “It’s time to go to school.” My thought bubble: Heaven help her teachers today.  

Want to read about other mornings we've had? Here's one: Saturday Morning With Sydney

The Note Home From School: Necessary for Moms, Nuisance for Teachers

Tate, age eleven

Communication between home and school is important to maximize the educational experience for all children. Obviously, if a child’s communication skills are limited, the communication between parent and teacher becomes even more important. Many things can be accomplished when parents and teachers are vested and cooperative, working toward the same goals. If at any time a disagreement arises that is allowed to fester and communication is disrupted then the child’s education will suffer.

When my son, Tate, began a preschool program, the caretakers recognized the need for a note home that described his day to us. It was more than just information about his academics and physical wellbeing. It helped us to work on Tate’s conversation skills. Some children with autism are nonverbal and some are verbal but are not able to have meaningful conversations. Tate could not, and still cannot, have age appropriate conversations. Although I am VERY thankful that he can talk and that he can usually get his wants and needs met by using words, I am greedy and wish that he could converse with me and use much more complex language than he is able. He cannot usually talk about his feelings or things that are not concrete. He cannot talk meaningfully about the future or anything too abstract. He cannot process language quickly so that throws another wrench in things. He does much better than he used to because of constant practice at school and at home.  

As long as we had that note coming home from preschool I could ask Tate very specific questions about his day and guide the conversation, using the information I had been provided. I could talk to him about books he’d been read that day, the art work he had done, the games he had played, what had happened during circle, what he had done on the playground, who he had sat by at lunch, and anything unusual that had happened. I needed conversation starters and things like a broken drinking fountain, a spill, a guest in the classroom, a classmate’s birthday treat, or a spider that startled the teacher, were invaluable to me as I tried to engage Tate in social communication.

When Tate transitioned to public school I asked for the same kind of note to come home with him and we added it to his IEP. The note that came home was not what I had hoped for. It was often just a list of subjects that were studied and the concepts that were taught. I explained over and over that I really needed conversation starters and I gave examples. I was told that other children’s names could not be shared with me in a note due to privacy laws. That was just one of many excuses given and the note home became a real conflict. The more I asked for, the less I seemed to get.

It is so hard to explain to someone without a child with autism, the reasons for so many of the things I have done, and why I have been willing to fight so hard for something so seemingly small as trivial information about my child’s day. But, those things are THAT important. What it might look like to a teacher is that I am a helicopter parent, hovering and needing to know about every second of my child’s day. In reality, I was (and am) a therapist at night, not just a mom, and I NEED something to work with. My child was away from me for eight hours. The conversation starters provided me about the escaped classroom pet, or the kid who accidentally kicked their shoe off in P.E. when they kicked the ball, were so valuable to me yet so stingily shared. I could not understand it. Was it a power struggle? Was it spite? Was it a misunderstanding despite my constant explanations? Was absolutely nothing interesting happening in my son’s time at school? For eight hours? Surrounded by 18 to 24 busy peers?

Fortunately, I had friends who worked at the school who were willing to share interesting tidbits about Tate’s day through emails some days. And eventually we moved to another school where the note home was not a point of contention for any of us. These days the teachers call me on the phone, text, email, and send notes home in Tate’s backpack, all of which are helpful for me when I try to engage Tate in conversation. And, the coolest thing of all? Tate can sometimes initiate a conversation with me about what happened at school. Could it be that all those evening hours of mom therapy and all those notes home are paying off? You bet your conversation starter they are paying off! The note home, autism parents, is worth fighting for. 

For another post about Tate's language development click here: Reciprocity

Find me on Facebook at Quirks and Chaos. Like what you read? Want to become a follower? Click on the Google Friend Following gadget on this blog. It's over on the right side and asks you to subscribe. Or you can add the URL (the web address in your search bar) to your Reading List. You can do that by clicking the plus sign in front of the URL. Thanks! 

Reciprocity: Keeping the Ball Bouncing.

Reciprocity. Not a word I used in casual conversation until I entered the world of speech therapy with my son Tate who was without it. Reciprocity is defined as the practice of exchanging things with others for mutual benefit. I think of reciprocity as sort of like a game of catch. One throws “the ball” (the topic of interest) to another who catches it and throws it back. A person with social skills can keep the game of catch going for quite a while without losing interest in the game or dropping “the ball.”

Social skills, as most other things, have to be taught systematically to Tate. He does not pick things up from his environment. Then there is the fact that autism and reciprocity are like oil and water. Tate is not interested in others and hearing what they think about much of anything so asking them and attending to their answer would not come naturally to him.

Tate, age 12

It has taken years of teaching and reinforcing but we have recently seen some significant progress. Tate has started asking others how they feel or how they are doing, if they have first asked him. Granted, it does not mean he is actually INTERESTED in the answer they give but at least he appears to be. 

The first time I asked Tate what he had done “today” and he gave me an answer and then reciprocated with, “What did you do today?” I was blown away. He had done it! Did that mean he had mastered social reciprocity? Were we about to see some real back-and-forth social interaction? Were we going to start hearing real conversation from him? I was elated.

The second time I heard this new “skill” used was when I asked Tate, “What are you eating?” and he answered my question and said, “What are you eating?” I was not eating anything and it was obvious. Why had he asked me what I was eating? It left me scratching my head. The third time Tate demonstrated reciprocity was when I asked, “What movie are you watching?” and he answered and said, “What movie are you watching?” I was not watching a movie. So as time went on and we saw more and more of Tate's version of “reciprocity” I realized that although we had progress we did not have real conversation. What we had was actually a sort of glorified echolalia, or parroting. Sometimes it sounds like he is trying to be a real smart alack but he is absolutely not. He is trying to use the rule that we have taught him. When I ask him, “Have you brushed your teeth?” and he answers and repeats the question it sounds like he is being disrespectful or mocking me. He does not have a clue that it sounds that way. 

Like most other things we teach Tate, we teach the general rule and then we have to teach all the exceptions to the rules. Most children just learn these things from their environment. Most children have brains that are like sponges, absorbing major social rules and all the tiny nuances to the rules. So how do I teach Tate the exceptions to the reciprocity? Hmmmm. I haven't figured this one out.

Some situations I find myself in with Tate are comical. Recently, we were in a public place and I wanted to give Tate the opportunity to visit the men’s room. I quietly asked him, “Do you need to go to the men’s room?” He loudly responded, “No. Do you need to go to the men’s room?” That got some attention from others. Yesterday we ran into a friend in town and she asked Tate if he liked it at the Junior High. He responded, “Yeah. Do you like it at the Junior High?” She looked at me and laughed. She’s about sixty years old and Junior High is long behind her. Tate is about to have a birthday and an older sibling asked, "What do you want to do for your thirteenth birthday?" Tate responded with, "I want to go to Chuck E Cheese. What do you want to do for your thirteenth birthday?" That sibling is 24 years old. 

He’s got the general rule down though! We cannot get a question past him that he does not reciprocate! In the meantime, be careful what you ask him! 

If you liked this post, here is another similar one you might like: What brought you here?

Find me on Facebook at Quirks and Chaos. Like what you read? Want to become a follower? Click on the Google Friend Following gadget on this blog. It's over on the right side and asks you to subscribe. Or you can add the URL (the web address in your search bar) to your Reading List. You can do that by clicking the plus sign in front of the URL. Thanks!